


What's a Stiles?

by house_of_lantis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for eeames. </p><p>Based on this wonderful TW AU image: http://eeames.tumblr.com/post/61433925835/teen-wolf-au-tech-savvy-derek-hale-professional </p><p>First published on my "secret" Tumblr page.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's a Stiles?

**Author's Note:**

> PROMPT: TEEN WOLF AU: TECH-SAVVY DEREK HALE, PROFESSIONAL BLOGGER AND SOCIAL MEDIA ENTHUSIAST || But who is to say that Derek can’t run a pretty successful blog filled with fun little sections like “istgrams,” “hooked on books,” and “sweat with derek: punishing exercises,” and lives off the money he makes from web ads??? And sometimes he draws cute, self-deprecating wolf comics when he has terrible days. And he rants about Stiles a lot and his commenters are weirdly invested in his love life. And then one day Stiles finds Derek’s blog (specifically the post where Derek played connect the dots with a supremely unflattering headshot of his) and confronts Derek for profitting off his face!!!

**WHAT’S A STILES?**

**POSTED BY D. HALE on SEPTEMBER 19, 2013 … (4,267 comments)**

Just a note: Thanks for all your comments and kudos on my wolf comic the other day. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten 17,362 messages on a single post before so I just wanted to say that it’ll take me a few days to respond to everyone. I was feeling kind of down (for reasons, don’t ask) when I drew that and it was great to see that you liked it. Maybe I’ll do a weekly wolf comic, The Bravest Little Alpha, and show some of his little adventures.

Now, back to why I’ve posted six times today…

[ ](http://s769.photobucket.com/user/house_of_lantis/media/1347dc4b-059c-435d-a009-126bd8c9d8e2.jpg.html)

 

For regular followers of my blog, you know that this is the bane of my existence: Stiles.

He’s this weird, annoying, jittery 20-something wannabe hipster who wears plaid shirts and Chucks and drives a jeep in a color that I can’t describe. Sparkly sky blue? Anyway, one of the funny things about him is that you can literally play connect-the-dots with the little moles on his face. It takes all of my self-control not to reach for a Sharpie and draw lines all over his face. Which is why I took this picture; I felt a great need to be artistic.

And how about that, dear readers, if you connect them, it looks like male genitalia. It might explain why he’s such a _little_ dick to me.

***

“DEREK!”

Derek sighed, his shoulders tensing as he pushed back from his desk and spun around slowly in his chair.

“Derek, you asshole, where are you!”

How did Stiles get the access code to the elevator to his loft?

“Derek! You fucking coward! Don’t hide from me! I want an explanation!” Stiles yelled as he ran around the loft, looking into the open kitchen, looking up at the spiral staircase to the storage area above the loft, and crossing the room to look under the bed.

Really? It wasn’t like Derek could even fit under there. It was a platform bed.

Derek frowned and wheeled his chair from the private alcove in the loft. “Why would I hide in my own loft?”

And the loft being an open design, there really wasn’t a place to hide. Derek built the alcove by the windows so that he could have a private space to concentrate on his writing.

Stiles glared at him and stomped over to him, holding up a wrinkled piece of paper in front of his face. “I want to know what the hell this was about.”

Derek couldn’t stop the smile when he saw that it was a print out of his last blog post. “What about it? I was bored.”

“I can’t believe that you posted a picture of me with a dick on my face! But I’m not mad about that. I pledged a frat in college, I know all about dicks on my face!”

Derek raised his eyebrows.

“That’s not what I meant,” Stiles said, flushing. He wadded up the paper and threw it at Derek’s chest. He watched it bounce right off and land on the floor by Derek’s feet. “What I’m mad about is the fact that you used the ugliest picture of me on your blog! Now there’s going to be like a million people who think I look like…like that! And not like this!” He waved his hand at himself to emphasize the difference.

Derek frowned slightly. “What’s the problem?”

“I think you need to give me a cut of your profits.”

“Excuse me?” He said, barking out a loud laugh. He leaned back in his chair and laughed and laughed. “Why would I give you my money?”

“You’re profiting from using my image without my permission,” Stiles said, gleefully.

Derek rolled his eyes. He probably got that from Scott who was pre-law at UCLA.

“That’s a clear violation of my rights. I could totally sue you.”

“You’d waste a lot of money on unnecessary legal fees. I took the picture in public and I can use the picture, without your consent, because you didn’t have a reasonable expectation of privacy. I’m not _selling_ this picture of you; and any profit I may or may not have comes from my blog ad revenue, not your face. Besides, you knew I took that picture of you. I have other pictures of you and other people on my blog. How I use it is completely legal,” he said, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrow in challenge.

He watched, a little sadly, as Stiles deflated. The younger man sighed and raised his arm, rubbing it over his head as he turned away. He sighed noisily and then turned back to look at Derek, an expression on his face that Derek didn’t know how to read.

“Why do you hate my guts so much? What did I ever do to you?”

Derek stopped swiveling the chair and sat up, looking at Stiles. “I don’t hate you.”

“But you write about me on your blog all the time! You make fun of my hair, my clothes, my shoes. You Photoshop my head on dinosaurs and naked Barbie dolls! You posted six times today – about me! I don’t get it, Derek, seriously, what the hell is going on?”

“It’s just…for fun,” he muttered, feeling his ears heat up. “If it makes you that uncomfortable, I’ll stop doing it.”

_Shit, what the hell was he going to blog about now?_

Stiles sighed and gave Derek a long look. He shook his head and turned, heading back to the elevator. “Forget it, do whatever you want.”

He watched as Stiles got on the elevator, turning to shut the gate. He just gave Derek a long, unhappy look and Derek felt his gut clench in fear, felt like a complete bastard. He heard the elevator move down the shaft and he turned slowly back to his desk, checking his inbox to look through all the new messages and comments that came in front his last Stiles post.

The comments were the usual mixture of amused outrage and LOLs. He scrolled through them, just scanning them to get a feel for how his Readers thought of his latest posts.

But one of them caught his eye and he stopped, staring at the screen:

_Camelgirls says:_

_I see that your crush on Stiles is still going strong. When are you finally going to tell him that you like him and start taking selfies of you and Stiles being all cute and coupley?_

Derek frowned, sitting back in his chair. He didn’t have a crush on Stiles, that was totally and utterly ridiculous. How the hell did this Reader come to that conclusion? He shook his head and scrolled down through a few more comments.

_Hackthefeed says:_

_Damn, you have it bad, Derek!_

And:

_HaveBluesWillTravel says:_

_ASK HIM OUT OMG DEREK HE’S PERFECT FOR YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111!!!!111!!!!_

Derek rolled his eyes and moved his mouse to click on the Reply button. He started typing:

_Thanks for your comment but I don’t have a crush on Stiles. I’m sorry to burst your delusional bubble, Reader, but Stiles is not perfect for me. He’s a total spaz and while he has his comedic moments, I’m the kind of guy who really likes to be with calm and quiet people. Stiles drives me crazy with his weird and oddly in depth knowledge of the oddest things. One time, I had to drive Stiles to see his best friend Scott in LA and for three hours, Stiles gave a monologue on the economics of male circumscicion! I don’t even understand how his brain works sometimes; how he can go from talking about mundane things and then jump to discuss his favorite Russian authors. It’s like, let’s talk about fluffy little kittens and oh, let’s talk about how wrong Freud was when he claimed that Dostoyevsky’s epilepsy was a physical manifestation of his hidden guilt over his father’s death because he wanted to bang his mother and that Ivan Karamazov’s moral guilt was a mirror of the author himself!_

Derek stopped typing and took his hands off the keyboard, rereading what he just wrote. He made a face and then groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“Oh no…”

_Oh God, he did have a crush on Stiles._

“Oh God no…”

He reached out and hit the Backspace key, deleting the message. He exited the program and closed down his MacBook. With a deep sigh, he got out of his chair and walked to the large windows, looking out at the downtown skyline.

Well, shit. He did have a crush on Stiles; his entire blog was devoted to Stiles. Derek banged his forehead against the window, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He was a total idiot.

And whatever chance he might have had with Stiles, he’d totally blown it.

He opened his eyes and was surprised to see that Stiles was still outside, leaning against the side of his ugly sparkly sky blue jeep, head ducked to his chest. His hands were shoved into his pants pockets and one foot was kicking at the ground. Derek pulled out his iPhone and sent Stiles a quick text:

_Come back upstairs and let me apologize. I have something to tell you._

He saw as Stiles pulled out his phone, looking at the text. Stiles looked up and craned his neck to see Derek watching him. Derek held up his hand and waved, hoping that Stiles would come up.

Derek walked across the loft to stand near the elevator, counting down in his head for how long it took for Stiles to walk back into the building, to cross the lobby to the elevator, to press the call button. It probably only took maybe 30 seconds and he held his breath, hoping that Stiles would come up.

Thirty seconds went by…forty five seconds…a minute…

And then he heard the elevator kick into gear and he smiled, running his hands through his hair and then breathing into the palm of his hand to check his breath. He didn’t have a clue what to say to Stiles. He took a deep breath and waited for Stiles to open the gate, looking at Derek warily.

“So. What did you want?”

Derek shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “First, I want to say that I’m sorry. For being such an asshole.”

“All right,” Stiles said, crossing his arms in front of him. “Yeah, that’s cool, dude.”

“You know how, um, when you’re a little boy and when you like someone, you’re really mean to them?”

Stiles made a face and then rolled his eyes. “Uh, okay. Yes.”

“I might need to work on my, um, emotional maturity.”

 


End file.
